Angel With Broken Wings
by Unbeautifully-Broken
Summary: Ginny is heartbroken over Harry and his new girlfriend...until she finds solace in a person she never expected to fall for. GWBZ, RWHG, HPOC. Disgregards HBP.
1. The Breakup

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do love to play with the characters!

Au/N: This was written just for fun, and unless I get a lot of people asking me to continue, I probably won't. Hope you enjoy!

Ginny's point of view.

Will _not_ follow the plot of the seventh book.

**One:_ The Breakup _**

**Angels with broken wings can't bring themselves to weep for this,**

**The leap of faith I made for you that simply couldn't end in bliss**

Shattered. Completely and hopelessly broken. In a state of permanent disrepair. That was how I felt when Harry uttered those fateful words: "Ginny, I think we should break up."

God only knows why he did it. Maybe he was tired of me, in love with someone else, secretly gay…the possibilities were endless. I often wondered if maybe it was something I'd done, but even if it was my fault through some twisted mistake of mine, it was me who felt the pain, me who cried myself to sleep, me who shut myself off completely from Harry and everything that reminded me of him. It was me who was broken.

Strangely, none of my close friends could ease my suffering. I was like the vase that held the flowers that I loved, but one that was shoved off the end of the coffee table and shattered on the floor. And not Harry, my friends, or anyone I expected was there to pick up the pieces.

But Blaise Zabini was.

_-:-_

"Ginny! I've missed you so much! How was your summer?" Hermione asked excitedly. We stood together, having just disembarked from the train to Hogwarts. Ron was tightly holding his girlfriend's hand, smiling widely. Hermione's outside appearance had changed dramatically since Ron had admitted to having feelings for her. In the beginning, I thought it was sweet, but that was when I had Harry. Now, it just made me sick.

"My summer was…fine." I tried to smile, but it was harder than I thought it would be.

"_Just_ fine?" Hermione queried, narrowing her eyes. Ron slipped his arms around her waist. I inwardly groaned.

"Just _fine_. How was yours?" She talked for a good ten minutes, making me sorry I asked. I didn't mean to be rude or sarcastic, but I told her I didn't want to be late for the first class of my senior year just so she could tell me all about her adoring boyfriend.

She understood—at least, I think she did.

Stepping into McGonagall's Advanced Transfiguration class, I took a deep breath. Harry was already sitting in his assigned seat; he must've arrived early. But he was a hero, and it struck me as odd that he'd be sitting in class, of all places. He should've been off somewhere, aiding the Ministry in some universe-altering matter. My mouth dropped open as his presence took its toll on me.

"H-Harry…" I stammered, holding my bag tightly to my side. My knuckles turned white as I gripped it harder.

"Ha…hey, Ginny…" he replied, blushing and looking away. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at his feet. I approached my desk, the one right in front of him.

"You…what are you doing in here, Harry? You're the hero of the magical world, remember?" I asked sarcastically; of course he remembered! After he'd destroyed Voldemort over the summer, he never let any of us forget it. Ever.

But before he could answer me, a tall, thin, overly pretty blonde girl blew into the room. It was Cecilia Dreyfus, the girl who could do just about everything Hermione could. I'd always gotten along with her, but we were never 'friends.' But the way her eyes lit up when she saw Harry told me that we _definitely_ never would be.

"Harry! Oh, Baby, I missed you so bad!" she cooed, practically bouncing over to him, her peppy pigtails flapping behind her. Her short green skirt and matching t-shirt with "The Beatles" printed on it made her green eyes stand out vibrantly. Harry smiled uneasily as she slid herself into his arms. He turned bright red as she pressed her cherry-red mouth to his lips. He watched me out of the corner of his eye and pulled away, embarrassed. Pippi Freaking Longstocking didn't seem to notice.

"I haven't seen you since Sunday! It's been way, way too long!" Pippi (as I would call her from that point on) exclaimed. I rolled my eyes and dropped my books—heavily—down on my desk. Harry looked up nervously.

"Sweetie…Sunday was yesterday…" he trailed off, biting his lip. I licked my lips and sat down very carefully in my desk, tossing back my red hair, hoping the light would catch it just right. I heard Harry clear his throat behind me, and I grinned. It had worked.

"Oh, I know, Baby, but the hours just drag by when you're not with me," Pippi said sensually, and I could hear more lip-smacking behind me. I heard her moan excitedly, and so I began to cough rather loudly until Pippi stopped sucking my ex-boyfriend's face to ask if I was alright.

Later, I learned that Harry had been in McGonagall's class to get a few quick words in about his classes. Probably had a jolly little romp with his favorite teacher on her desk before I got there, too. And luckily for me, Pippi had that very same class with me. As the first class of the day began, Harry told her goodbye (she drowned him a little more of her cherry-lip-gloss-flavored spit) and departed. Pippi sat right behind me and chewed on her gum for the entire class; it cracked and popped so loudly that I wanted to turn around, take that damn gum, and hex it deep into her pretty blonde locks.

If only McGonagall hadn't been watching me the entire time.

After that, I met up with Hermione and Ron in the Great Hall; they were just beginning to dig into lunch. I sat down across from them and put mashed potatoes, green beans, and a rather tasty-looking pork chop on my plate.

Then I saw Harry sticking his tongue down Pippi's throat not twenty feet from me, and I suddenly lost my appetite.

"Gin? What's wrong? You look…depressed," Hermione observed as Ron wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I'm doing quite well, considering the fact that the guy who said he loved me now has his tongue so far down Pippi Fucking Longstocking's throat that he can probably feel a heartbeat!" I made sure I said the last bit very loudly, so that Harry would hear. Judging by the way he didn't dump the blonde into his plate and exclaim to the whole student body that he was hopelessly in love with me, I assumed he hadn't heard me.

Hermione and Ron had, though, and with raised eyebrows and worried expressions, they did that 'so-sweet-it-makes-you-wanna-throw-up' wordless communication shit. I groaned and picked at the food on my plate.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to find myself face to face with a very handsome, dark-skinned boy. A Slytherin named Blaise Zabini.

I really wasn't in the mood for his little games. The way his table grew strangely quiet made me feel even more certain that what he had to say wasn't good. I rolled my eyes, turned my torso around to face him, and asked, "What?"

"Your…thong is hanging out for the world to see," Zabini grinned. His table erupted into a roar of laughter; I felt my cheeks burn as I pulled my shirt down in the back to hide whatever was showing. "Oh, don't feel bad…" Zabini whispered, coming very close to me, "it looks good on you."

I was surprised at this, but was even more shocked when he winked at me and turned back to his friends. I stared after him, his words echoing in my head. I twisted back around and faced Hermione and Ron. They looked expectantly at me. Ron was a deep shade of crimson.

"You wear…_thongs_…Ginny?" Ron asked, reddening even more at the word 'thongs.' I sighed and nodded my head. Ron made an 'ew' gesture to Hermione, who very kindly told him to shut up.

"Don't worry about it, Gin. They're just prats is all. They've got nothing better to do…" Hermione said, trying to comfort me. I thought about using my fork to catapult a green bean down Pippi's throat (her mouth was open and temporarily separated from Harry's). Then, they were once again interlocked in a mad fight for tongue dominance, and I knew I'd lost my chance.

"Damn!" I muttered, dropping my fork to the table.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Nothing…" I replied, sighing again and thinking up thousands of ways to kill Pretty Little Pippi.

That night, just as I lay down in my bed, I remembered there was a very important thing that I'd forgotten to do. The trouble was, I couldn't remember what I'd forgotten. I sat up in bed and shook my head, wondering what it could've been.

An hour went by. Then another. Then another. Finally, it was 3 a.m., and I was beginning to lose hope. A girl stirred in the bed opposite mine, and I did the only thing I knew to do.

I stood up and made my way to the trunk at the foot of my bed. I pulled out my plaid, flannel robe and wrapped it around me. My pajamas consisted of one large, white, holey t-shirt, with a pissed-off looking cat and "I'm not a morning person" stamped across the front. Sticking my feet into what I thought were my slippers, I knew I must've looked terrible, but it was 3 a.m. Who else could possibly be awake that late at night?

I left the girls' dormitories and made my way down into the Gryffindor common room. I slumped down into the couch and watched the glowering embers of the long-extinguished fire smolder in the ashes. It reminded me of Harry, somehow. It bothered me that I couldn't figure out why.

Suddenly, I remembered what I'd forgotten to do. The library. I was supposed to pick up my Herbology III book from the library (the librarian knew that I wasn't financially capable of purchasing a new book, so she agreed to let me borrow one from the library for the year). So, standing up and stretching, I made my way back to the girls' dormitories, grabbed my wand, came back downstairs, and exited the common room.

"Lumos," I whispered to my wand; the tip lit up the hallways just enough so that I could see. I blinked, my eyes tired and dry, and began to walk down the hall toward the library. Wizards in the portraits that lined the halls groaned as I passed and commanded me to put the light out, but I ignored them and walked on. Finally, I found myself outside the library. I glanced around once, wary that Filch and Mrs. Norris could be watching, and entered the library.

I yawned, feeling safe inside the quiet, dark room. I found the non-fiction section after a bit of searching; my eyes became more and more tired with every second. When I found the P's, I knelt down to find the author _of Herbology III: A Guide to the Magical Wonders of Nature_, who went by the name of L. Ima Bean.

"Pat. Patolomew. Paker. Paulkner. P—DAMN!" I said a little too loudly; I clamped my hand over my mouth and just hoped that no one heard. I was looking in the fucking P section for a book, and the author's last name started with a damn B. My mind had turned to mush.

I slumped down on the library floor, the scratchy carpet working hellish wonders on my bare legs. Suddenly, a voice startled me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Looking for this?" the voice inquired, smooth and pleasantly rich. I stood and held my wand out, the light illuminating his inhumanly beautiful features…and the tattered, green book he held out before him. I recognized it as being the one I wanted, so I gladly took it. Then I turned my gaze to the one who'd beaten me to it.

It was Zabini.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little more maliciously than I meant to.

"I could ask you the same question, Miss Weasley," Zabini stated factually, eyeing me with a grin. He appraised my appearance, but his eyes lingered on my chest; I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, so I wrapped my robe more tightly around me and glared at him coldly.

"Yes, indeed you could, but you won't…you won't tell _anybody_ about this…I could get in _way_ too much trouble just for being here." Actually, I didn't really care about getting in trouble, but I knew that if he told someone _I_ was there and _he_ was there..._alone_…in a _dark_ library, in the_ middle_ of the night…people would start to talk.

"Don't worry about it…your secret's safe with me," he promised, but I had long since learned to never put faith in the promises of a Slytherin.

Smiling, he turned to walk away, his long, black robe billowing out behind him. I stared after him in awe-struck silence, amazed at his beauty.

"Oh…and Ginny?" he called, barely slowing down, "I'm sorry about you and Harry."

Then he was gone, and I was left alone in the library with a damn plant book and a bloody awful headache.

**End Chapter**

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(Yes, I did intend for that to rhyme)

Thank you!


	2. Zabini's Secret

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything associated with it does NOT belong to me. I do, however, own the quote at the beginning.

Au/N: Thanks for all my reviews! They make me all tingly.

**Two:** **_Zabini's Secret_**

**For every illness, there is a remedy. For every hatred, there is enough passion to spark a friendship. For every mistake…there is someone who saw you screw up and is laughing their ass off at you.**

"Honestly, Ginny, you've no right to complain. You skipped a whole year, for heaven's sake! Did you really think it'd make things easier?" Hermione snapped as she walked with me from the library to our first meal of the day.

"No, I didn't, but I had no idea there'd be so much extra work!" I groaned, acknowledging the book in my arms that Zabini had retrieved for me the night before. I'd taken it back to the evil librarian and told her that I'd simply forgotten to check it out. She wrote down my name and the date and told me that it would be due at the end of the semester, and that I'd be held responsible for damages.

"I just wanted to graduate at the same time as you and Ron and…and Harry," I finished quietly, pulling the book tighter to my chest as though it would comfort me.

Hermione's expression became soft and understanding. She slowed her brisk pace a bit, and gently patted me on the back. I sniffed back tears as we rounded the corner and were in sight of the enormous Great Hall.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, Gin…it's just that Ron was being a complete git this morning…but if you ever need help, feel free to ask me," Hermione said apologetically at first and then brightly. I nodded, smiling, thankful for a break.

We approached the Gryffindor table, and Hermione sat down in the seat opposite from Ron. She did not offer a "good morning" or make any sign that he was within twenty feet of her.

"Hello, 'Mione," Ron said cheerily, making it obvious to me that he had no idea that he'd upset Hermione. She sniffed delicately and began scooping carrots on her plate, completely ignoring him. Ron's face fell, and he looked to me for guidance. I rolled my eyes, tired of being asked to help with other people's romantic relationships when my own had evaporated before my eyes.

I sat down wearily, eyeing my empty plate and the food before me. My stomach grumbled, but I didn't feel strong enough to pile food on my plate. Not even strong enough to chew. I looked up and saw Harry, along with Pippi, eating and smiling happily. It made me so sick, I thought about asking Hermione to walk me to the hospital wing. I noticed that, by the way they were sitting, Harry had one arm around Pippi's waist, and she had her hand…

_Jesus _fucking_ Christ._

"Ginny? Why is your mouth hanging open? Are you okay?" Hermione's voice called, shattering the deafening silence that was enveloping me more thickly every second. I didn't answer her, but I assumed that she followed my line of sight, because soon, I heard her say, "Oh…"

"Ginny…" she began, but I cut her off.

"No, Hermione, I'm fine. I'm _really_ fine. Just _perfect_. Never been better in my whole fucking life. _Thank you_ for your concern," I screeched in a high-pitched cackle that very quickly drew Harry and Pippi's attention.

"Cecilia…give me a moment, will you?" I heard Harry whisper to Pippi as I stood up to run from the room. But somehow, after I'd stood up, I couldn't move at all. I didn't have any _desire_ to run. After all, why should I? I had nothing to run from! I wasn't embarrassed! I was strong and confident; I would not let Harry see that he'd affected me so. No; it wouldn't happen, not today, not tomorrow, _never_.

So, I reached down to the table and retrieved my book. Holding it carelessly under one arm, I smiled to Hermione (she looked at me as though I was a rather dangerous time-bomb) and slowly left the Great Hall, making sure to flip my hair just as I passed through the glittering light shimmering through the large windows. I noticed that, as I'd exited the room, Pippi had convinced Harry to stay at her side, while she undoubtedly fondled him under the table.

As soon as I rounded the corner and was out of sight, I hurdled the book across the hall angrily, turned around and kicked the wall, and muttered a few choice words that really didn't make me feel any better.

"Stupid bastard! What's she got that I don't? Besides syphilis!"

"I don't know, but finding that out isn't going to solve the problem."

"Maybe not, but it'll make me feel a hell of a lot better!" My eyes grew wide as I realized that I'd just spoken, out loud, to my conscience. _Oh God, I'm losing my mind._

"No, it won't. Wondering about it is a waste of time; she has nothing you don't, and everything you do, except one very important thing."

I looked around the room to make sure no one else was there, and I didn't see a soul. My conscience sounded oddly male. _Funny, that._

"And…w-what might that be?" I asked, becoming a bit frightened. Hysteria was overtaking me as I realized I really was, quite literally, talking to myself.

"His heart."

Knowing I never would have thought that up myself, I knew someone else had to be around me somewhere. And the voice was very, very familiar.

"You!" I said, finally catching a glimpse of a body behind a suit of armor. "You—you--"

"You know, it's quite sad when you don't even know what your own conscience sounds like," Zabini said as he came out of hiding. Long, black robes fell to the ground, and his hair was wild and dark, just like his eyes. I felt almost afraid of him.

"You…were there the whole time?"

"Yes, I was, Miss Weasley," he said with a smirk on his elegant face. I realized that my mouth was hanging open, so I shut it quickly and straightened up, trying to seem unperturbed.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd warn me the next time you feel the urge to eavesdrop on my private thoughts," I quipped, crossing the hall and bending down to retrieve my book.

"Ah, but then it wouldn't be called 'eavesdropping' and therefore would not be as entertaining," Blaise replied, his arrogant side shining through in his voice. Feeling my cheeks heat up with anger, I stood up quickly and approached him with as menacing a glare as I could manage on my face.

I backed him up flat against the wall, so that there wasn't but maybe a foot of space between us.

"Well, well, well, aren't you the cheeky little bastard, then?" I snarled, narrowing my eyes at him. I saw the corners of his mouth twitch as though he was fighting to suppress a smile.

"You're the one who talks to yourself in deserted corridors."

"You're the sick freak who pretends to be the consciences of distraught girls!"

"You're the sad little girl who is so out of tune with her conscience that she doesn't recognize the sound of it."

I blinked as his words slapped me in the face. Was he seriously implying that I, Ginny Weasley, rarely used my conscience? My silence gave him enough space to bring up a new subject, one that caught me off guard.

"You know, you shouldn't bend over in short skirts, Miss Weasley, especially not in the presence of hormonally unstable young men," Zabini pointed out, gesturing to the book in my arms and reminding me of only a moment ago when I'd bent to retrieve it. Bloody bastard had been checking me out!

"How dare you--"

"Excuse me for doing you a favor and saving you from future embarrassment, Miss Weasley."

"Stop calling me Miss Weasley! My name is Ginny for God's sake!" I shouted angrily, dropping my book, yet again. I set my jaw and glared at him, feeling angrier than I had since seeing Harry make out with Pippi.

"I saw what happened in the Great Hall, by the way. Fantastic show. I could actually see you struggling to decide whether to run or stay." My jaw dropped again at his knowledge of what had been going through my mind. Quickly, I closed my mouth again and rounded on him.

"I find it quite interesting that you were paying such close attention to me, _Mr. Zabini_."

"Oh, call me Blaise, if you will. And it was not hard to figure out what you were doing; I, along with the rest of the student body, had a good idea, I'd wager."

"You have some _nerve_! To think…to think I was _grateful_ to you for giving me that damned _book_! I should've _known_ what an incomparable _ass_ you are!" I shouted, prodding him forcefully in the shoulder with every emphasized word.

"And yet, you _were_ grateful, as you have just admitted. How many times have I done you a favor in the past twenty-something hours, Ginny? Let's count them, shall we?"

"No!" I said, trying to ignore the shock of hearing him use my name. "We shall _not _count a damn thing! Because this conversation is over!"

"Don't even know why it began," he replied, smiling.

"What are you so bloody _happy _about?" I demanded, though with less anger than before. I was getting tired of anger and infuriation. There was so much I had to do, so much schoolwork and thinking…I didn't have time for anger.

"I know something you don't, although that's not much of a shock, is it?" Zabini said, matter-of-factly. _Okay, now. That's it. Mother fucker has insulted my intelligence._

"Fuck you. Fuck you and all your pure-blooded superiority. Fuck you and--"

"I can help you get him back."

_Well, now._

"C-come again?" I stammered.

"I can help you get Harry back. It's obvious you want him. And I can help you get him back." He was smiling so bloody widely; I wanted desperately to prove him wrong and wipe the smirk off his face.

_Calm down, Ginny. This is getting interesting._

_Oh, is that you, Conscience?_

_Yes, Ginny, it's me._

_Aha! See there, I _knew_ I knew you. Zabini's just on crack or something._

_Whatever helps us sleep at night…_

"Ginny?" Zabini asked, sounding concerned. I realized that I'd been quite in touch with my conscience and hadn't been paying attention.

"Uh…yeah…I was…" I trailed off, not knowing what else I could say.

"So, would you like my help or not?" Zabini asked, shattering the uncomfortable silence.

"I…" Thinking about it, I really could use his help, because I wasn't getting anywhere alone. And he was a guy…he knew what guys wanted. The only other guy I could ask was Ron, and that was too weird; he was my _brother_ for heaven's sake. But Zabini wasn't even a close friend, if I dared to call him a friend at all. What if he promised to help me, when really he was plotting my destruction.

_Oh, stop being paranoid. Just take him up on his offer. What have you got to lose? And who knows? You might be glad you did._

"Yes…I…I'd appreciate your help," I said, not meeting his eyes. I'd already hurt my pride enough by actually admitting that I needed assistance in recapturing the love of my life.

"Very well, then," Zabini said, an eerie glitter in his dark, piercing eyes. "When do you want this to happen?"

"When do I want what to happen?" I asked, still surprised at the direction our conversation was taking.

"You and Harry to be together."

"As soon as possible!" I blurted out, then blushed because I hadn't been able to stop myself. Zabini nodded.

"We'd better start right away then, and it's possible you'll have him back by Christmas," he said in a business-like fashion. I didn't know what else to say, so I nodded in agreement.

Zabini offered me his arm in a gentlemanly way, his expression excited and mischievous.

"Where are we going?" I asked cautiously, slowly reaching out and taking his arm.

"To the library. The restricted section, to be exact." I swallowed hard as I nodded again, and he turned us around and began steering us toward the library.

"Wait!" I said urgently, digging my heels into the carpeted floor to stop him. He whipped around to face me, looking a little annoyed. "Why…why are you doing this, Zabini?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Because not so long ago, I was just like you."

I blinked in surprise just before he grabbed my arm again and began walking quickly, effectively avoiding any more prying questions.

_Bloody hell, _I thought as we approached the moving stairway. _What on _Earth _have you gotten yourself into, Ginny Weasley?_

**End Chapter**

Sorry I haven't updated in a while; things have been busy! But if I get more reviews, I promise I'll update faster!


	3. My Life is Rated R

Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah. Blah.

Note: So, it's been a while since I've updated…been sooo busy you wouldn't believe it…I got engaged to my boyfriend! And it's just…been hectic, whoosh. Haha! Well, just one thing I wanna say…thanks to my reviewers! I've got some people saying I need a beta because my writing is too "grammatically incorrect" but the people who tell me that can't spell "grammatically" so I think that's kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you?

Happy reading!

**Three:** _**My Life Is Rated "R"**_

**I never had a friend that I didn't try to kill at some point.--Anonymous**

"Zabini, would you please stop dragging me down the fucking hall already? I know perfectly well where the damn library is!" I screeched, trying to rip my arm away from his iron grasp.

"If you'd stop grumbling, I wouldn't _have_ to drag you, Weasley," he grunted, and it thrilled me to realize I was actually making him put forth an effort. "We don't want to attract attention! The whole point of coming to the library now is because no one will be there! Dumbledore's holding an assembly after dinner, remember? Even the librarian will be there…"

"I thought we were past the last name stage already!" I said, changing the subject quickly. I didn't like to be told that I was grumbling, or that there was something obvious going on that I'd clearly forgotten.

"You called me 'Zabini' two seconds ago. I can call you 'Weasley' if I want."

"Fine then, _Blaise_; would you please let me go so that you don't rip my good school robes?" I snapped, finally wrenching free of him and smoothing out my robes.

Blaise shook his head and then put a finger to his lips. We were at the entrance to the enormous library of Hogwarts, and as we slipped inside and closed the door behind us, I had an eerie sense of déjà vu as I remembered the last time I'd been in this same library, with this same boy.

"Um…Blaise…I've never been in the Restricted Section…" I whispered as I walked through the dark and quiet library. I followed him closely, because truthfully, I was a bit afraid of the dark…

"Are you scared?" he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he reached inside his robes, took out his wand, and whispered, "_Lumos_!"

The tip of his wand glowed with just enough light that I felt comfortable again.

"Thank you," I mumbled, crossing my arms against my chest. We rounded a corner then, and he took me to the very back of the library. The atmosphere seemed to be thick with something evil and electric. Maybe it was just in my mind.

_You've fallen off your rocker, you have._

_Sod off, already._

_Don't talk to your conscience like that, Ginny Weasley!  
Apparently I can get along fine without you!_

_I'd like to see you try!_

"Fine then! Watch me!" I said out loud, and angrily. Blaise stopped suddenly and whipped around to stare at me. My mouth dropped open as I realized that I'd been talking to myself, yet again. "I…I…um…"

Blaise raised an eyebrow and turned back to walking, muttering under his breath about "great idea, being alone in a deserted library with a crazy witch…"

When we finally seemed to reach the bookshelf he'd been searching out, he paused and held his wand up to shed light on the titles. Some books seemed to squirm or shake, and one even said, "Put out that bloody awful light!" as the tip of Blaise's wand interrupted his slumber.

"Maybe this is it?" Blaise said to himself as he reached up and withdrew an obviously old and tattered book from the dusty shelf. It had once been blue, with elegant gold lettering, but now it was an ugly faded color and only the stenciled outline of the once beautiful letters remained. The title was _One Thousand Ways to Win Them Back_.

I immediately shook my head and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

-:-

"Blaise, have you found anything yet?" I asked tiredly. It must've been around three in the morning, and there were piles upon piles of books strewn across the library floor. Blaise had gotten tired of holding his arm up that long, so he'd transfigured a few specks of dust into candles. He caused them to levitate all around us, transforming the once dark and dreary Restricted Section into something similar to the Great Hall around Halloween.

"Maybe if you'd get off your lazy ass and help me, this wouldn't take so long!" he hissed under his breath, angrily tossing another unhelpful volume aside.

"Well maybe if I knew what I was looking for!" I said, standing up with my hands balled into fists. Blaise sighed, eyeing me with such condescendence that it made me want to punch the hell out of him.

"We are looking for a very powerful love spell. One that only the very intelligent or the very foolish attempt…one that is everlasting." He raised his eyebrows at me, as though expecting some kind of emotional girly reaction like "ooo" or "ahhhh." I snorted audibly at him and leaned casually against the bookshelf, eyeing him with disgust.

"I thought you said I already had Harry's heart, back in the corridor. Now you're telling me I need a spell to get him back?"

"You do have his heart. He just needs to be…reminded," Blaise said with a cool smile. It made me somewhat uneasy, and something registered in the back of my mind that he had an ulterior motive hidden behind his dark, animalistic eyes.

I inched closer to him and held my face up to his, looking at him as threateningly as possible.

"If you try anything funny…if you hurt Harry, or me, or even attempt to…"

"Then what?" he asked smartly, leaning one arm against the same bookshelf that I was leaning against and bringing his face even closer. "What will you do, Weasley? Snitch on me? Wouldn't that be funny, considering we're in this together? You're my accomplice, as of approximately nine hours ago, so just get used to the idea that if I get caught, you get caught. Am I clear?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and got as close as I possibly could without touching his face. I looked directly into his eyes, smiled as wickedly as I knew how, and laughed.

He looked confused for a moment, but only for a moment. Because suddenly, all our weight on the bookshelf caused it to fall over to the side, and it caused us to fall down on top of it. And then it hit another. And that one hit another one…and another one…and so on and so forth, going around the entire library. The noise was so loud in the previous silence that it startled me more than anything. Blaise and I stared at the chaos, open-mouthed, as books and parchment fell out of shelves and dust flew everywhere. Crashing and banging and booming surrounded us. And then, once the last bookshelf had fallen…all was dead silent once again.

"Oh…fuck," I said, my voice ringing out in the new quiet. Blaise had already pulled himself up off the fallen bookshelf and hooked his hands under my arms, pulling me up to my feet. I shook myself off and turned to face him, and instead of seeing fear, I saw completely unbridled mirth. Tears of laughter filled his eyes, and he had to bite his lip to hold them in.

"What's so bloody funny?" I demanded, shaking with infuriation. "We are so gonna get expelled for this! We wrecked the whole library! And you know how Pince is! She'll make us out to be murderers for disrupting her precious books!" I said, sounding strangled. I was struggling to maintain composure, but it was completely a hopeless cause. Blaise stood there, laughing; whether it was the library or me that he was laughing at, I didn't know or care. I was just really, really pissed off.

_See, if you'd not banished me to the dark corners of your mind, I could have told you it wasn't smart to lean on an unstable bookshelf. _

_Don't you dare blame this on me!_

_Why not? It is your fault, after all. You wouldn't have caught _me_ doing what you did._

_That because you're in my imagination!_

_Oh my, _now_ you choose to be observant! That kind of careful attention could have been useful to you five seconds ago, couldn't it?_

Blaise burst into even more obnoxious laughter, snapping me out of my battle of wits with my conscience.

"Weasley! You…you look like—like you can't decide whether to be sad or scared or just--"

"About ready to kill?" I shouted, thrusting the tip of my wand under his neck menacingly. He immediately silenced, and put on his straightest face. He raised another long, dark, sleek eyebrow and tried to stare me down.

"Why are you so angry at me, Weasley? You're the one who caused this mess."

"Me? None of this would have happened if you and your 'help Ginny get back her boyfriend' tactics hadn't been so completely _insane_ that I had to _miss sleep_ to sneak into a deserted library and find a book with a spell, which obviously isn't here!" I screamed, all in one breath. I was huffing by the end of it, and Blaise was smiling again. Then, quite unexpectedly, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of my bright red hair behind my ear. This distracted me enough that he reached out with both arms, while turning me away from him and holding my wand arm out toward the ceiling. He pulled my back against his chest and folded my wand arm into my chest. Resting his head on my shoulder, he squeezed my wrist just enough to cause me to cry out in pain and drop my wand to the ground.

I struggled furiously, but I soon realized that the muscles he'd acquired from his Quidditch training could not be overpowered by a girl who didn't think exercise really mattered (we were all going to die anyway, right?).

Finally, I gave one last push against his arms and grunted in dissatisfaction.

"Are you quite through, Ginny?" he breathed against my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up in response. Swiftly, he turned me to face the library doors, away from the mess that we'd created.

"Oh—s-so it's back to Ginny, now, huh? Trying to sweet talk yourself back to my good side now, aren't you? Well—y-you can just t-take--"

"Shh. Do you see those doors, Ginny? In around three minutes, a ton of people are going to come running through them, wondering if Voldemort has somehow broken into the school and started attacking students in here. Now, do you want to get out of here _before_ we get caught, or do you want to stand there and chat amiably until Filch comes and we get kicked out of school?" he whispered in a rush. He released me and allowed me to walk a good ten feet from him, but not before he yelled, "Accio Ginny's wand!"

As it flew to his hand, I stared on angrily, rubbing my sore wrist.

"You can get us out of here? Won't they know we did it, though?"

"Did what, Gin?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his face. I looked at him strangely for a moment before actually looking over his shoulder and…

_Bloody hell!_

…realizing the entire library had been restored to order. Every shelf, every book, every speck of dust was back in its place. Even the candles that Blaise had conjured were just dissolving back into the dust he'd created them from. And it had all happened without a sound.

"We still need to get out of here. The noise from before will alert them, and they'll be here any minute," he said quickly, already rushing toward the doors and grabbing my arm.

I kept my eyes fixed on the newly restored library. It just wasn't possible…you'd have to be so powerful to do that…without making the slightest noise…without saying one single word aloud…

Blaise squeezed my hand firmly, signaling me to run with him. I closed my gaping mouth and turned to follow him, and we ran through the doors as quietly as we could, turned down the hall, and toward a rather inconspicuous suit of armor. The tapestry hanging on the wall beside it featured the woven names of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.

Blaise reached out and pushed it aside, revealing a plain expanse of wall. But he extended his wand and tapped it against the smooth surface twice, pocketed his wand and stepped into the wall, completely disappearing.

_Holy shit. Holy shit. This is crazy. He destroys a library, makes it look like new without making a noise, walks through walls…this is crazy. Or I'm crazy. Or both. Oh shit, oh holy shit. Oh damn. Damn, this is bad. Walk away, Ginny. Go to your room. Damn…oh…bloody hell!_

Blaise's arm reached out from the wall and grabbed a handful of my robes, pulling me toward the wall. I braced myself for impact—but felt nothing. No shattering bones in my nose, no pain. I opened my eyes…and I was in a brightly lit room, filled with a fireplace and several cozy-looking couches. A coffee table sat in the middle, featuring a silver tray with a tea set and delicious-looking petit fours on it.

This was much like walking through the wall to Platform 9 ¾, I realized. I smiled lopsidedly as I laughed at my earlier fear.

"Now, we're safe. Nobody knows where this place is but me…and now, well, you." The way he said it indicated that there would be dire consequences if the location to his hideaway ever passed through my lips.

I nodded to show I understood, and went to sit on one of the couches, which were black and faced each other. The coffee table was made of dark, rich mahogany…something that would look entirely out of place at the Burrow.

"Help yourself to tea," Blaise said absent-mindedly, going to sit on the couch opposite me. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking tired.

I was curious about his sudden change in mood, but I did was I was told and reached forward, helping myself to tea.

"Want any…?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah…" he said, waving me on. I put two lumps of sugar in, just for good measure, in his cup, and sat back to enjoy mine.

"You don't take sugar in your tea?" he asked, and he actually looked amazed. This surprised me, because amazement was not a usual emotion on the face of Blaise Zabini.

"Um…no, I don't really care for sugar…"

"Do you drink your coffee without sugar?"

"Yes…just black. No cream or anything." I didn't really see the point of this conversation, but it was better than silence.

"Odd…" he mumbled, and I was about to ask why, but then he turned his face up to mine with that same mischievous grin again. He changed temperaments so suddenly, it startled me every time.

"So, what did you think of our little adventure?" he asked, trying to hide his excitement.

"Oh…well, if you think about it, it was completely pointless. We didn't even find what we were looking for!" I said, becoming angry at the memory of spending so long in that library for nothing. I slammed my teacup down on the table and leaned back into the couch, crossing my arms against my chest and fuming. I blew a strand of hair out of my face…and once again, Blaise leaned forward and tucked it behind my ear.

There was an awkward silence, and then his smile returned.

"Oh, but we did. We found _exactly_ what we were looking for," he said smoothly, withdrawing a small book from his robes. It was bright red and obviously one of the less-used volumes in the library. The black lettering on the spine announced the title to be, simply, _Love._

"Who wrote that?" I asked, not seeing an author's name on the spine. Blaise turned it over in his hands, opened it to the first page, and closed it again.

"There doesn't seem to be an author," he said, looking unsurprised. "But there usually isn't one for a book that contains dangerous spells. In case one goes wrong…they don't want to be blamed for it, see…" he said, smiling at me. He knew it was making me uneasy, and when I spoke next, my voice squeaked.

"Um…dangerous? I…I don't want to hurt him, remember…"

"You won't, if we do this right," Blaise quipped, straightening up and opening the book again, flipping through it to find the right page. He took a sip from his teacup for a few moments, and then smiled his crooked smile—I was beginning to actually like it, since he only ever smiled that way when something good was happening—and looked up at me.

"Here it is. Page ninety-seven. The Spell of Aphrodite."

"The Greek goddess of love?" I asked quietly. Blaise rolled his eyes as though I'd said something entirely stupid and obvious.

"No, the goddess of wool socks and feminine products. Yes, of course the goddess of love! So, this is ages old, there is usually a date circa the creation of the spell or the time it came into use, and there isn't one at all here. It does take an awfully long time to brew, and quite a lot of ingredients; twenty-three to be exact."

"How long does it take?" I asked, suddenly afraid. Harry, Hermione, and Ron would be going off more with the order as soon as they graduated, and she wanted this to happen before they left.

"Around six months," he said, once again as though he was answering the question of a five-year-old.

"Six months! Bloody hell! He'll probably have married Pippi by then, and then there won't be any bloody point, because I'm not a fucking husband-stealing tramp!" I shouted, standing up and preparing to march right out of the stupid little room right then.

"Oh, would you calm down? It's the first week of school for Merlin's sake! You'll still have almost a whole semester to spend with him after he realizes that he's madly in love with you! So, are you in?" Blaise said, standing and following me to the place we'd entered.

I bit my lip to avoid saying anything I'd regret.

_This does not sound wise…_

_No, it sounds dangerous...I agree with you there…_

_Oh shit, you're going to do it, aren't you?_

_Yes, why not?_

_Didn't we just agree that it was dangerous?_

_But I love him!  
Enough to work with a Slytherin that you've hated for as long as you've known him?_

"Yes," I said, answering both their questions. And then, just to Blaise: "I'm in."

"I knew you'd see it my way," he said, with his crooked smile. "Meet me here tomorrow after your last class. Come straight here, and let no one see you. Tap your wand on the wall twice, and you can enter. Bring something that Harry gave you while you were dating him. It can be anything." Then, he reached out for the last time, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught as his hand lingered there, near my face.

Then, he dropped his arm, and in a much quieter voice: "See you tomorrow, Ginny."

And with that, he disappeared through the wall.

**End Chapter.**

Hint: Reviews are not required, but they are appreciated…greatly. Lots. So review!


	4. More Than Just a Potion Brewing

Disclaimer: I do believe this is the fourth disclaimer. If you haven't figured out by now that I don't own it, I weep for your long-lost sanity.

Note: Several of my reviewers asked some very good questions, all of which I hope will be adequately answered in this chapter. Still have questions? The story's not over yet!

Also: I have approximately 1,500 views for this story and 34 reviews. Sound strange to you? Good…this means I'm not crazy. So review!

Happy reading!

**Four:**_** "**__**More Than Just A Potion Brewing**__**"**_

**To put yourself in a compromising situation on purpose is to tempt fate. As several very stupid people have proved in the past, that is not, and has never been, the wisest course of action.--Anonymous**

"Friday! Oh, how I _do_ love Fridays!" Hermione gushed, smiling widely across the breakfast table at me.

"I don't," I said, "because it only means Monday is closer."

"Ginny, stop being so depressed. It isn't you," Hermione said, taking a bite of her toast and jam.

"Well, I'm sorry if my personality isn't to your liking today. Please, oh _Great and Mighty Hermione_, forgive me for _offending_ you," I retorted, my voice dripping with acid. I knew Hermione hadn't really said anything to deserve what I was saying to her, but I was very nervous about seeing Blaise in the secret room after classes, and the time of our meeting came closer and closer with every passing second.

Ron, who was sitting beside Hermione, looked up upon hearing the venom in my voice. He had his usual look of pure dumbassness pasted onto his freckled features, his beady eyes squinty and his lips pursed in curiosity.

"What's your problem? You on your monthly again?"

"Ron! What _is_ it with you and monthlies?" I demanded in a vehement whisper. I looked around me to see if anyone had heard what Ron had said. Seeing that no one was gawking in our direction, I let out the breath I'd been holding and merely glared at him.

Ron shrugged. Like I said…dumbassness. There's just no other word.

Behind me, I heard giggling; the sound was similar to nails being raked across a chalkboard. So, of course, it was Pippi.

"Oh, Michael, have I ever told you, I absolutely love you?"

"That's wonderful," Harry said plainly.

_Oh God! She doesn't even know his name! That's…That's…_

_Absolutely hilarious._

_Why, thank you, Conscience!_

_No problem, Dear._

"Ginny, what are you smirking about?" Hermione quipped.

"Oh?" I said, my attention quickly shifting to her face. "Um…nothing. I need to get to class. I'll see you later," I mumbled, standing up, grabbing my book bag and running to Advanced Transfiguration. I still had a good fifteen minutes before class began, but if I had to hear Pippi call Harry "Michael" or "Bob" again, I wasn't sure I could prevent myself from laughing my ass off.

I opened the door to the classroom and shuffled to my seat, glad that I hadn't met anyone along the way. I set my books down on my desk and slid into my seat, glancing idly around the room, waiting for McGonagall to enter and announce the beginning of class.

About five minutes before class started, a girl I didn't know and Padma Patil entered the classroom. Upon seeing me, Padma pulled her friend close and whispered something in her ear. I heard it quite clearly, though, so I was positive that either Padma was entirely without an "inside voice" or she was really just cruel enough that she intended for me to hear her.

"You see that girl over there?" Padma asked, pointing obviously at me. The girl nodded. "Harry Potter, the boy with the scar, I showed him to you…well, he dumped her! It's kind of funny actually, I heard she wasn't 'satisfying him' so he moved on to better things…"

The pain hit me so swiftly that it knocked the air out of me. People thought I was not good enough for Harry, that it was my fault that he'd left me. Of course, I'd always known no one would ever be good enough for the famous Harry Potter…but to hear someone _else_ say it…it was more than I could bear.

I just sat there, glancing at them from time to time, listening to their conversation shift to boys and shoes, and then settling on Seamus Finnigan, before McGonagall entered the room. I realized that the classroom had filled up while I'd been fighting my tears of embarrassment and shame…and that Pippi was sitting right in front of me.

She turned around quickly and asked if I was okay.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding like it had come from a drowning toad.

"Are you sure?" she asked sweetly, and all I really wanted to do at the moment was reach out and wrap my not-good-enough-for-Harry-Potter fingers around her Harry-Potter's-mother-fucking-whore neck and squeeze until her gorgeous eyeballs popped out of her perfect head.

"I'm pretty sure that I'd know if I wasn't fine," I retorted, dropping the books I wouldn't use for Transfiguration on the floor loudly and drawing my quill and ink bottle out of my bag.

"Okay," she said, her brow curving quizzically as she turned around. I made a face behind her back, which I'm pretty sure Padma saw and would tell Pippi about later.

_You honestly have no maturity to speak of._

_I do…I just don't give a fuck right this moment._

_You _never_ do. You're _always_ like this, ever since he left you. You need to—_

_Tell me to move on, and I will put you back in the black hole you came from._

_Alright, have it your way. I'll let you get back to acting like a _five year old

I was about to say something very mean back to my conscience, but McGonagall then told us to turn to page 12 of our textbooks, and the few brain cells I had left were occupied.

-:-

All day long, through all of my classes, I was not able to concentrate at all. It was Blaise this, Blaise that. And not in the good, "oh baby, oh baby, you make me so hot" steamy shower kind of way, either.

But finally, Professor Sprout, my final teacher of the day, dismissed the class. Hermione's eyebrows shot through the roof when she saw how quickly I got out of my seat and ran to the door of the greenhouse.

"Ginny?" she called, but I made no sign that I'd heard her.

I rushed back into the castle at full speed, turning corners and yelling "MOVE!" at anyone who got in my way. I couldn't wait to start working on this potion, the one that would make Harry love me again.

Finally, I reached the hallway where Blaise had taken me the day before. The tapestry hung on the wall near the suit of armor. I walked up to it, after checking to make sure no one was watching. I reached into my pocket, feeling the necklace that Harry gave me while we were together, having brought it as Blaise had instructed. Taking a deep breath, I moved the tapestry aside, coming face to face with a blank wall. I withdrew my wand from my pocket and tapped the stony wall twice. Then, I returned my wand to my pocket, closed my eyes, grabbed the tip of the tapestry (so that I could pull it back over the wall as I entered), and stepped inside.

With only my hand outside, I released the tapestry, feeling it brush against my hand as it slid back into place, concealing the "door" from view.

"Where have you _been_?" Blaise demanded, standing up quite suddenly from one of the couches and startling me.

"Ah! I…I-I've been in Sprout's class…that's halfway across campus…I _ran_ here!" I said in my defense. Blaise rolled his eyes and gestured that I follow him to the other side of the room, where I saw a large, black cauldron sitting before the fireplace. My palms grew sweaty as I realized what we were about to do.

"Did you bring what I asked you to?" Blaise asked, picking the small book he'd retrieved from the library up off the couch.

"Yes…" I said quietly, bringing the necklace out of my pocket and dropping it into his open palm. He drew it up to his face and examined it for a moment before nodding, as if to say, "this'll do."

Putting the necklace in a pocket inside his robes, he stooped down to retrieve a wooden box that I hadn't seen before from the floor.

"What's in _that_?" I asked quickly, my curiosity overpowering my will to be silent.

"The ingredients. I don't have them all…there's one that you'll have to give me," he said, opening the box and revealing several small, odd-shaped bottles with colorful liquids in them, many different plants, a knife, a hairbrush and a hand towel.

"Now, the potion must brew for around six months before it's ready, but we can add all the ingredients now; they must be added in a specific order, so I want you to hold the book and read the ingredients off to me in the order I'm supposed to add them, because I doubt that you know what they all look like."

_Did you hear that? He just insulted your—_our_—intelligence!_

_I heard it. But I'm far too intrigued to care._

"Okay," I said, accepting the book when he offered it to me. I turned it to the correct page, was greeted with the words 'The Spell of Aphrodite,' and began to list the ingredients, one at a time. Blaise added them as I called them out, the items ranging from lacewing flies to mugwort, the root of a tree that gave the eater a warm, comfortable feeling.

When I got to the last few ingredients, Blaise stopped adding things to the cauldron. He reached inside his robe pocket and brought my necklace out again. Then, he took the knife and the hand towel out of the box. I looked at him quizzically for a moment, before snapping my attention back down to the book. My heart pounded frantically as I realized what Blaise was going to do. I read aloud from the book, hoping that maybe hearing it would make me fear it less.

"'The spell caster must use a muggle weapon to make an incision, allowing their blood to flow freely into the potion. The wound cannot be healed magically, and must instead heal naturally, such as their broken heart could not be healed with magic, but only with time.'" I looked up from the book, watching as Blaise pulled a few hairs off the hairbrush, which I recognized as Harry's. The cauldron hissed quietly as the hairs came into contact with the other items inside it. Then, Blaise looked up at me, and held his hand out to me.

My heart thumped madly in my chest. I hated blood. I absolutely abhorred blood. Not just anyone's blood, _my_ blood. The mere sight of it made me sick. And here I was, about to slice myself open for a spell.

_It's for Harry. You love Harry. The wound will heal. You've come this far, trusted a Slytherin, and now you're going to turn back because you're scared of a little blood?_

_Oh, shut the fuck up. You aren't having to cut anything, so you have no right to talk. _

_Fine, then. Have fun, love._

I sighed as I held my arm out to Blaise, already wincing at the thought of bleeding.

"Would you rather do it, Gin?" he asked, sensing my discomfort. I looked up at him and shook my head.

"I want you to do it. I couldn't possibly. I'd cut an artery and kill myself by accident," I said, closing my eyes and preparing myself for the sharp pain.

"It won't be that bad, I promise, okay?" he said as he put the towel under my arm and uncurled my fingers from the tight fist I held them in, gently placing the necklace on the tips of my fingers, right above where I supposed he'd cut me.

"Sure, you can say that. You don't have to do a thing but cut _me_!" I whined, realizing how foolish I sounded. But hey, you don't like pain either, do you? Okay, maybe you do. So, never mind.

"Um…the itsy bitsy spider, went up the water spout--"

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I demanded, feeling my stomach twist into knots at having to wait. My eyes popped open with anger.

"Trying to take your mind off it! It will hurt less if you don't think about it." Blaise sounded like he actually cared. The thought made me want to laugh.

"I'm sorry, but if that's what you're aiming for, I have news for you. Absolutely nothing you say or do is going to take my mind off having myself sliced open--"

And then, quite unexpectedly, Blaise leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

**End Chapter.**


	5. Shadow of A Smile

Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah, blah. Mmkay, Pumpkin?

Note: This story is completely finished, and I am the only one who knows how it's going to end. I've been having a lot of family troubles so I have not been able to update. For that, I apologize. This chapter has been written for about six weeks, I'd say. Review it if you like it, review it if you hate it. Just review it, that'd be nice. I also own the poem at the beginning. Mwhahaha.

**Five: _"Shadow of A Smile"_**

**I used to be that girl who'd hang on every word; I used to be the one who'd take away all your hurt.  
I used to be the girl who'd kiss the pain away; I used to give a damn, but I fucking don't today.  
All those lies you used to tell, so pretty and sincere; All those sentiments you'd moan, that I loved to hear.  
Every day you'd kiss my hand and steal my breath away; I used to give a damn, but I fucking don't today.  
All those girls I saw you with, right up to the end, you'd roll your eyes, smile and say, "Baby, we're just friends."  
Time and time again, that's what you'd always say; I used to give a damn, but I fucking don't today.  
On my way out the door, with my packed suitcase in tow, you look at me and ask, "And just where do you think you'll go?"  
I pull out my little pistol and I blow your brains away, "I'm leaving, motherfucker, so don't stand in my way."  
Oh, your blood's staining our carpet, but suffice it to say:  
I used to give a damn, but I fucking don't today.**

**-"Don't"**

When someone kisses you, one of two things is bound to happen: A, you return the gesture with enthusiasm and pleasure, or B, you wonder what the hell this person is doing kissing you before promptly pushing them off, drawing out your wand and preparing to hex them (assuming you are not a Muggle).

In the case of myself and Blaise Zabini, the correct answer to the question of "What happened?" was most definitely _not_ A.

At first, I was much too shocked to move at all, and for a frantic moment, I actually realized that he was a pretty great kisser. His lips were soft, and he tasted deliciously of, oddly enough, sweetened tea with lemon. Then my senses came back to me (including the one that recognizes situations of absolute horror that shall bring shame upon your entire family) and I pushed Blaise off so forcefully that he half stumbled backward.

It took me a moment to catch my breath, but when I did, I grabbed my wand and pointed it at his face so quickly that he barely had time to steady himself.

"H-How DARE you--"

"Gin, let me explain--"

"Explain? What is there to explain? I know what you're up to! You lured me in here, got me all alone, so you could...MOLEST me! Well, I won't have it! I'm going straight to--some authority figure with this--this--disgusting ruse to--to--What the bloody hell are you doing with that knife?"

And surely as I was standing there, Blaise had slowly approached the cauldron, keeping his eyes on me, and tapped the knife against the side of the bubbling cauldron. I barely caught the flash of gold as my necklace sank with a _plop_ into the mixture, turning it such a vibrant color of pink that I was forced to look away. And had I really noticed, as my necklace had disappeared into the potion, the distinct crimson color of blood on its thin chain?

Blaise took advantage of the one moment that I was distracted and he lunged at me, wrapping his hand around my wand hand and using his body to knock me back into one of the sofas. He squeezed my hand until I cried out in pain and dropped my wand. Blaise released my hand, and I used it to slap him as hard as I possibly could in his dark, handsome face.

With a resounding _smack_, the flesh of my palm collided with Blaise's cheek, and he fell backward off me, off the sofa, and onto the floor. He groaned as he immediately began to try to stand while I dove to the floor to retrieve my wand.

"_Accio_ Ginny's wand!" Blaise cried, and my wand, the wood of which had just brushed against my fingertips, flew upward and into Blaise's outstretched hand.

_Why didn't you think of that?_

_Me? You're _my_ Conscience! _You're_ supposed to tell _me_ what to do!_

_There's no point in that, because we've proven time and time again that you never listen!_

_Oh, shut up, already! Wait...what's that on his face?_

I cocked my head to the side as Blaise cautiously pocketed my wand. I tried to figure out just what that dark smudge was on his cheek, tried to deduce what it could possibly be. Then, the light from the fire flickered across his face and the smudge had a sinister sort of red glow to it; I knew that it was blood.

"Oh, Blaise, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you bleed! I didn't think I hit you that hard!" I gapsed, standing from my awkward position on the floor and approaching him, not taking my eyes off the blood on his cheek. With an amused expression, Blaise looked down at me, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

"Oh, you're sorry, are you? And just what are you willing to do to make me forgive you?" he asked, smiling crookedly at me. A warning bell in my head went off, screaming at me that something was not quite right, but I ignored it. I'd just drawn blood from a person with a lot more influence in the school than I had (and he was also quite taller than me).

"Er...anything, I suppose..." _Oh, dammit, Ginny! Why did you say that? That was stupid, absolutely stupid! Do you have any idea what open-ended promises like that lead to? Oh, you've done it now!_

"Anything, hmm?" Blaise said coyly, his eyes glittering mischievously as he grinned down at me. "Anything I want?"

"Yes, I guess so," I said, trying to sound bored, but I was really more afraid than I had been since I'd begun talking to him.

"Well, then, I want you to kiss me."

The sentence rang in the air and all I could do was stand there with my mouth open like a bloody idiot. This was some kind of sick joke. It had to be.

"Punch line, please?" I said sarcastically, my voice quivering and betraying my fear.

"No punch line, Ginny. Kiss me." I took in his expression. He was entirely serious.

_Oh shit._

_You've got that right, Cupcake._

_Don't call me Cupcake! And you're the one who got me into this mess! You let me say I'd do anything!_

_I tried to warn you! But you ignored the alarm!_

_What fucking alarm are you talking about?_

_The one that went 'BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ don't do this you IDIOT girl' in your bloody head!_

_Fine!_

_Fine!_

_You're just no use at all!_

_Oh, just kiss the wanker...Cupcake._

I was just beginning to bitch my conscience out again but Blaise was lowering his head toward me, reaching his smooth hand up to my jaw, and the pleasant smell of him began to engulf me. Without really having to think at all, I tilted my head back, and my eyes fluttered closed. My heart started palpitating in such a manner that I was sure death was near. I tried to breathe and found that I couldn't. I wanted to run, but I wanted so badly to stay. Oh good God, did I actually _want _to kiss him?

And then there his lips were again, crushing against mine, warm and smooth and deliciously soft. The tip of his tongue penetrated my mouth and hungrily searched inside, skillful and passionate. I moaned as my knees completely gave up on me, and with one strong arm, Blaise pulled my body flush against his and held me there, his mouth burning into mine, his free hand tangling in my hair and cradling my head. My arms pressed between us, against his chest and stomach.

My heel collided with something and I vaguely realized it was the couch. I stumbled backward onto it, dragging Blaise with me, so that we were in much the same position we had been in earlier, when he'd taken my wand from me. I lay back on the couch and his lips stayed locked onto mine, his hands finding the bottom of my shirt and lifting it slightly, exposing my stomach. He lightly trailed his fingertips across my skin, circling my belly button playfully.

Then one of his hands shakingly (could he really be nervous?) drifted to the bottom of my skirt and began to crawl slowly beneath it, brushing against the flesh of my thighs in a teasing way.

_No, Dear. You're not quite ready for that, I don't think._

I tore my mouth away from his and gasped, "So, I kissed you. Do you forgive me?" My chest was heaving with the great, gasping breaths I took, but I never glanced away from his eyes, which had locked onto mine. His hand beneath my skirt had frozen, his palm merely pressing against my upper thigh, his breath ragged against my lips.

He smiled that crooked smile that I'd grown to like quite a lot, and he very quietly said, "Yes, Gin. I forgive you."

"Good," I replied. But he'd said it so tenderly, so lovingly, that my conscience quite left me again, and I lifted my head to capture his lips in mine. He was shocked for a moment, but responded almost immediately, more passionately than ever before. And I found myself liking it, craving it, found that I needed it, needed this. Harry and I had never even gone this far, but here Blaise and I were, on the verge of crossing boundaries that I'd always known had existed, but had chosen to ignore out of fear.

And then, that hand beneath my skirt found my underwear. My heart skipped a beat and leapt to my throat. Blaise locked gazes with me, and kept his expression soft and smiling. Something in my face must have given him an idea that I wanted this, because I felt warm, long fingers move my underwear aside and one slipped slowly inside me, causing me to quiver with new found lust.

I inhaled sharply and I could smell us sweating, could feel so many sensations that I felt sure I'd explode. Blaise's finger moved slowly and shallowly in and out, never going very deep, and I felt maybe Blaise knew that I'd never done this before. Embarrassment caused my cheeks to burn as I realized that maybe I wasn't very good at this.

But then, he kissed me again, and I couldn't think. My hips bucked against his hand involuntarily, causing his finger to delve deep inside me, and the moan of pleasure and pain escaped me so quickly that I wasn't sure I'd let it out. He inserted another finger and pushed them farther into me, and I felt something other than sweat dampening my thighs. His fingers began to quicken their pace; tears of mingled pain and pure ecstasy slipped down my cheeks, a sigh escaped my lips, and drops of sweat dripped down my forehead.

Then, all the pain had melted away, and I began to moan with every thrust of his hand, and meet every movement with my hips, and grind so hungrily against him that I saw his eyes darken with animalistic desire.

He lowered his head to my neck and whispered my name, softly, slowly. I began to squirm in pleasure, writhing beneath him. My head fell back and my back arched again as waves of pleasure reverberated through me.

"Harry!" I cried, groaning and shaking, licking my lips like a starved child. Immediately, Blaise withdrew his hand from me and practically jumped off me, and the next thing I knew, he was sitting on the opposite couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

Gasping for air, I sat up and smoothed my skirt and my hair down, wondering what had happened. I sat that way, taking him in. He was knotting his hands in his hair, tearing at it angrily. I saw something fall to the floor below and my mouth fell open in astonishment as I realized he was crying.

"Blaise...what...?"

"Oh, so I'm 'Blaise' now? That's just fucking wonderful, Weasley. So nice that you remember who I am, now."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, becoming more upset than ever when he'd used my last name instead of my first.

His hands dropped from his hair and his face shot up to glare at me, his eyes angry and hateful. I cringed underneath the array of daggers that those eyes were shooting at me.

"You called me 'Harry'. Don't deny it. When we were...a minute ago. You called me 'Harry'. I heard you."

My heart seemed to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Only a moment ago, Blaise had been looking at me with so much love and adoration, and now he looked at me as though I was his worst enemy, a diseased dog. And it was my fault, because I'd called him 'Harry'.

"Blaise...I am so, so sorry--"

"Don't be. It's fine. I deceived you, too." I raised my brow quizzically until he gestured to his cheek and the bloody spot that remained there. "This is your blood. I kissed you the first time to distract you so I could cut you, for the spell. You didn't notice a thing. Then you slapped me, and you figured you'd hurt me, so I decided to use your ignorance to get what I wanted." He said it so matter-of-factly, so smugly, that I wanted to bat-bogey hex him into the next life. But part of me didn't want to believe him, so I turned my hands over, palm-side up, and glanced down at them. And just as he'd said, my right palm had a shallow cut on it, which had stopped bleeding.

It explained the blood on the necklace that had been in my hand and the blood on Blaise's cheek, left from where I'd slapped him.

Blaise tossed the hand towel from the wooden box at me so that I could wipe my hand off. I did so absent-mindedly, staring at him, trying to decide what to say next. He stood and approached the cauldron, glancing inside to see the hot-pink color of the foamy potion, and he smiled with apparent satisfaction. I noticed that it was not like the other smiles, the ones he'd shown me when he'd kissed me. This smile was somehow false, forced...a shadow of what a smile should be.

"Blaise, I--"

"Save your sentimental apologies for a Hufflepuff half-wit, Weasley. I don't have the time." He pointed his wand at the potion and began to place wards over it, which I assumed were to keep it from being Vanished, should anyone stumble across it, like a house elf, and decide to clean it up.

"We've done all we can do. Now, we just wait six months. Then, you'll have your precious Harry Potter back, and everything will be peachy." But he didn't say it as though he thought it would be peachy at all.

I decided I'd had quite enough of it.

I stood and marched myself over to stand directly facing him, and I crossed my arms impatiently. He rolled his eyes as he turned his gaze from the potion to me, an obviously uninterested look upon his arrogant, gorgeous face.

"What is it now, Weasley?"

And all the anger boiling inside me, the anger I had for Harry and Pippi and Ron and Hermione, for everyone, all poured out of me like some sizzling-hot lava. I began to shout at him, poking him hard in the chest with every emphasized word.

"First off, you don't just have physical relations with a girl and then call her by her last name. It's rude and disgusting. Secondly, how can you blame me for what I said? We're only brewing this potion because I am still in love with Harry! You knew that before this little project of yours began, when I walked through that door today, when you made me read the ingredients for the potion; you knew that I still had feelings for him! Bloody hell, all evidence points to the fact! And then you deceive me to get me to kiss you, and you knew I was vulnerable and would get carried away! You knew it! You brought this all on your own bloody self, so there's absolutely no reason for you to be a fucking asshole when you're the one who dragged me into this whole damn thing!" By the end, I was completely out of breath, and Blaise's eyes were nearly black in his anger.

"You bring up some very good points in your argument, but might I just point out the hypocrisy of it all, then, _Ginny_?" he seethed, pushing me firmly away from him and pacing around the room, a haughty expression on his face.

"You said not to have physical relations with someone and then call them by their last name. While that may be quite rude, I find it is even worse to have physical relations with someone and call them someone _else's_ name during the activity. Yes, I did know you were in love with Harry, but I would've thought that, in light of the fact that he's been treating you like a pile of horse shit, you might come to your senses and realize that he does not love you. And I'll be damned if you still haven't realized that I do, that you mean more to me than you have ever meant to him," he approached me, his expression becoming soft again, his hands cupping my face, his eyes warm and sad, "and that I never would've volunteered to help you unless I thought it meant I could do something to make you happy."

I only stared at him, taking in everything he'd said, wondering how the hell his mood had changed so quickly (like a pregnant woman, really). I tried to imagine a scenario in which this would end well, but unfortunately, none came to mind.

"So...you...love me?" I stammered, still trying to grasp the concept.

"I'm pretty sure. I mean, yeah. Yes, I do." His confidence had begun to ebb, and I felt his hands shaking slightly against my face.

"Why?" I asked, and the question was utterly absurd, but I really just didn't understand at all. But Blaise released me and straighted up, looking completely honest and humble.

"I honestly don't know. I just do. I just do, Gin. Please, just tell me that you love me, too. Okay?" he asked. He looked so small. Not the haughty boy he'd been only moments ago, but an innocent child now. My heart broke as I watched him plead with me, beg me to feel something.

_Conscience?_

_Yes?_

_What do I do? I need you._

_Just don't lie to him, Dear. Tell him the truth._

I took a deep breath.

_Okay. Thanks._

_Anytime, Love._

"Gin?" Blaise asked, "Do you?"

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.

"No," I said, quietly. "No, I don't."

Blaise's hopeful expression disappeared in the blink of an eye. He lowered his gaze to the floor and we stood there, in silence, for the longest three minutes of my life. Then, he cleared his throat, glanced up at me, and smiled in a tragic sort of way.

"Well, that settles it, then. I'll see you in six months, when the potion's done. It's been nice working with you." And with that, he turned and disappeared through the hole in the wall.

I closed my eyes as I heard the tapestry slide back over the hole, tears threatening to spill over at any given moment. I collapsed onto one of the couches, listening to the potion crackle and hiss.

_Why did you lie to him, Dear?_

I began sobbing uncontrollably, shaking my head, wringing my hands in dismay.

_Why did you lie to him? Why?_

_I don't know, Conscience. I just don't know._

_What _do _you know, then, Love?_

And with a sideways glance at the cauldron beside me, I realized that there was just one thing I didn't want anymore. I stood up, took a deep breath, and disposed of the potion the way Blaise would not have thought of: the Muggle way. I conjured gloves and slipped my hands into them, gripped the burning side of the cauldron as tightly as possible, and pushed with all my weight against it. The cauldron tipped over, spilling its hot pink contents all over the floor with an angry spitting noise. I watched silently as a cloud of pink smoke rose above the potion spilled on the floor. The cloud curved into the shape of a perfect heart, which immediately shattered in what I thought was a very symbolic fashion, before vaporizing. The last thing I saw before I left the room, tears stinging my eyes, was that the potion on the floor turned the color of tar.

**End Chapter**


	6. Until the End

Disclaimer: Yeah that'd be a 'no.'

Note: I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. Like I said before, the story is finished, but I try to allow a few weeks between uploads, to see if anyone leaves me a review that could tell me something is wrong with the story, before I continue. See, I have a reason!!! Review if you love it…review if you don't. Your opinion DOES matter!

**Six: **_**"**__**Until the End**__**"**_

**So clever, whatever. I'm done with these endeavors**

**Alone I walk the winding way, here I stay**

**It's over, no longer, I feel it growing stronger**

**I live to die another day…until I fade away.**

**Why give up; why give in? It's not enough; it never is**

**So I will go on until the end.**

**We've become desolate. It's not enough; it never is**

**But I will go on until the end.**

**-Breaking Benjamin**

And you know…it's true. You never realize what you had until you've lost it. It feels even worse when you're the reason it's gone.

**Three Months Later…**

"What happened, Gin?"

Was it unclear that I was in pain and only wanted to be left alone?

_She's only trying to help you._

_I don't WANT her help._

_But you need it, Dear. You need it more than anything._

"Gin? Tell me what happened. It's been months now, and you hardly say a word to anyone. I've waited for you to tell me yourself…I didn't want to have to ask…but I can't watch you waste away like this any longer…" Hermione pleaded gently. I could tell she really did care, that she was genuinely concerned, unlike the other girls who had only wanted to know so that they could gossip about it later.

I remained lying on my stomach, but I turned my face so that it wasn't hidden by the pillow. With one hand, I wiped away the salty streaks on my face and sniffed. Hermione brushed my hair out of my face and looked down at me with a comforting smile.

I tried to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say without coming off as a complete lunatic.

"H-Hermione, I…"

"You can tell me, Ginny."

"I know. I just…don't want you t-to think badly of me," I choked out, blinking rapidly to prevent more tears from falling. I licked my dry lips and exhaled loudly.

"I would never do that. I'm not perfect, you know," she said, smiling softly.

"Could've fooled—everyone," I said, attempting to joke. I was as successful at humor as an atomic bomb was at achieving world peace. She was silent as she waited for me to speak.

"I don't know what happened," I began after a moment, speaking in a rush so that my voice wouldn't crack. "It was all so fast, really."

"You're not making sense, Gin…" Hermione said, becoming even more concerned.

"That's my point! Nothing makes sense anymore! And I tried to blame Harry; I really did, for the longest time. I blamed all my troubles on him, every last fucking one! But the truth is…I got myself into this mess. I brought this on myself, and it's up to me to fix it. I just don't know how, Hermione. I have no clue. I _hate_ not knowing what to do. I feel so…useless." I turned my face again so that it was hidden by the pillow. My throat tightened as more tears threatened to spill over. I felt Hermione's hand squeeze my shoulder.

"Sometimes…having no idea what to do is good. That way, you can stop, analyze the situation, and handle it with a clear head," she began, her voice strong and bold. Then, she became more quiet and comforting. "Listen, Gin…I know that breaking up with Harry has been hard on you, but this--"

"I'm not…upset…over Harry anymore," I interrupted, feeling a small spark of pride as I realized it didn't hurt to say his name, or hear her talk about him. But something else hurt much, much worse.

"Then…what's wrong?" she asked, surprised and confused. I glanced up at her for a moment, and then, feeling I had taken control of my emotions, I sat up to face her. I put my hands in my lap and took a deep breath, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"I don't know if you've noticed…but Zabini…I mean…_Blaise_…and I had…become closer…since school started back," I began with a feeble attempt at sounding casual. Hermione must've heard something in my voice, though, because she raised an eyebrow infinitesimally, and her brown eyes took on a suspicious gleam.

"And?" she prompted; I realized I'd grown silent as I had watched her become wary.

"And…I told him that…I was still in love with Harry. And he offered to help with the whole situation…and somehow we ended up meeting together to brew a love potion to make Harry love me again, you know, nothing serious--"

"GINNY WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU?" Hermione demanded, exploding with fury. I immediately became defensive, holding my hands out, palms toward her. I began to talk very fast.

"Hey! You can't say that Harry didn't deserve it. You saw how he treated me, how he was hanging all over Pip—I mean, Cecilia! And she didn't care about him! She barely even knew his name! And he chose_ that_ over _me_! He deserved to drink a disgusting potion and SO much more!" I was panting in my fury at recalling how low Harry had sank.

"I know that, Ginny," Hermione said, her voice laced with annoyance, "but for you to retaliate doesn't fix the problem, and it doesn't reflect well on you at all!"

"No…but it made me feel a hell of a lot better," I mumbled under my breath. Hermione groaned.

"So, go on, then. What happened between you and Blaise?" And somehow, the way she said 'you and Blaise' made goose bumps appear on my skin; it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart started beating erratically. I realized I liked the phrase. I gulped, wondering if she had already figured it out. She probably had. _Damn_ Hermione and her infuriating intelligence!

"Well…er…we worked very closely on it…and we learned a lot about each other," I said, conveniently leaving out the details of our heavy make-out session. "He's really not that bad," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Mmm-hmm…" she said, obviously not believing me.

"He's not! He's funny, and not like the other Slytherins at all! He's not prejudiced against—well, he doesn't put much stock in the whole 'dirty blooded' beliefs that his friends have. He's not like anyone, Hermione," I said, pleading with her to see him the way I did. I realized almost immediately after speaking that I sounded like a whiny six-year-old.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Well, if he's so wonderful, then why did he make you cry?" she asked skeptically. I sighed.

"He…didn't make me cry. I was…I behaved very inappropriately toward him and…if anything, I'm the bad guy," I replied, biting my lip nervously. Hermione tilted her head to the side inquisitively.

"What did you do, Gin?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The memory of it all flashed across my mind quite unexpectedly, and I felt my heart breaking as my chest ripped apart. I clutched the collar of my shirt and bit down harder on my bottom lip, tasting blood.

"Something…that not even the lowest of people deserves to have done to them, Hermione." I looked up at her, my expression guilty. She grew extremely quiet, only staring at me as she seemed to comprehend what I'd done. That was the great thing about Hermione, though. You didn't have to spell things out for her.

_And only moments ago, you were damning her intelligence._

_Well, okay. I like her intelligence. It's convenient._

_Only when you are too cowardly to tell someone what a git you've been._

_You're _really_ beginning to annoy me._

_It's what I'm here for, Dear._

"Well, I've always found that…the best thing to do, when you've wronged someone, is just to apologize," she said politely, smoothing out her skirt.

"You never apologize to Ron when you're in the wrong…" I began, trailing off when I saw the daggers her eyes were shooting at me.

"That is because whenever Ron and I argue, it's_ his_ fault. _Always_," she whispered dangerously, narrowing her eyes. I resisted the nearly overpowering urge to laugh. Then, her expression brightened, and she smiled at me. "My point is, if you say that you are sorry, and you really mean it, Blaise will forgive you…since he's apparently such a _great _person, and great people are always forgiving."

"There is no way he would ever forgive me for what I've done, 'Mione," I said, sighing. I looked down at my pillow and pondered smothering myself with it.

"Then he's not worth crying over, Ginny. Unless he's never wronged anyone, it would be hypocritical for him not to forgive you. And I mean…he _is_ a Slytherin. No matter how wonderful you think he is, I'm willing to bet that he's committed _plenty_ of crimes with his friends in his life."

"Yes," I grimaced, remembering the trick he'd played on me to get me to kiss him months ago. "I'm sure he has, too."

"So, just tell him you're sorry. It might take a while, but he'll come around. Your friendship might not be the same, but at least you won't be enemies," she said, patting my hand. I looked up at her gratefully.

"I guess you're right. I don't have any idea how to go about it, though."

"Typically, males like it when females make utter fools out of themselves for them. It makes them feel powerful," she said, winking at me. I laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said, truly grateful. "I owe you one."

"Anytime. Now, if you will excuse me," she smiled, rising and drawing her wand out of her robes, "I have to go and hex Ronald within an inch of his life. It shouldn't take long, really. He's not too great with the defensive spells." She walked to the door and opened it, her wand held at the ready.

"Really? What did he do this time?" I asked, unable to keep the giggle out of my voice as I visualized all the pain she was about to inflict upon my youngest brother.

She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes dark and dangerous. In a quiet, evil sort of voice, she said, "He ate the last pumpkin pastry. _No one_ eats the last pumpkin pastry…_ever_." And with that, she turned and left the room.

I stared after her, my mouth hanging open.

_Well, at least you're not the only one who's mental._

_You've got that right._

_Are you afraid for your brother?_

I thought about it…really, I did.

_Nope. Not at all. Wanna go watch?_

_You really should apologize to Blaise first…_

_PLEASE, Conscience???_

_Oh, alright. I'm making a mental note for you, though._

_Really? What does it say?_

_To never, __**ever**__ eat the last pumpkin pastry._

**End Chapter**

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